


Family Reunion

by AnimusStuff (DarthAnimus)



Series: Gems in the Woods [3]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Steven Universe Fusion, Ford Is Being a Butt, Gen, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-27 04:11:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5033212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthAnimus/pseuds/AnimusStuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ford and Stan meet each other again after ten years apart, and Ford is determined to mend fences. Unfortunately, it’s the worst kind of timing for the reconciliation he has planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There were right ways of dealing with people and there were wrong ways of dealing with people. Frankly, Ford had never really grasped the need for complicated social mores, for meaningless politeness and pleasantries. He barely kept contact with his family once he entered college, not because of any bad blood but simply because he felt there were so many things that were more important. First there was getting his degree, then came his doctorate and the grant application process. Finally the was the process of setting up his research station in Gravity Falls, overseeing the construction of his house and getting it properly equipped.

Ford was a busy man, so naturally he didn't have much time for correspondence with family. It generally took him a week to go through any personal mail he received (why waste time on unnecessary correspondence when there was science to do?), so naturally he only got around to reading through a letter informing him of his oldest sibling's pregnancy by the time Shermy's due date was approaching.

While Ford was busy, this was an important time in Shermy's life and it would be prudent of Ford to be there for them. Shermy had always place a lot of worth on the value of family and even Ford, with his limited social abilities, knew that him not coming when they were about to give birth would be a severe insult.

Never mind the fact that if there was one thing that could cause Stanley to resurface...

There was nothing to it. In a couple of days Ford had arranged himself some time off and a ride out of Gravity Falls. His car had been stolen by something in the woods soon after his arrival, a very interesting affair, so he couldn't exactly drive all the way to his parents' house, where Shermy was spending the ending stretch of their pregnancy.

Ford's arrival had been a shocking experience. He might have actually jumped a bit when Stanley opened the door for him, thick, square glasses framing his scowling face. Ford had been unable to do more than sputter when Stan helped him with his bags in an empty gesture of cordiality.

It was amazing. Stan looked just like him. They'd been apart for ten years, and Stan looked even more like him than ever during their teenage years. The only difference was the casual bulkiness that Stan had really grown into.

While Ford was suitably distracted by Stanley's appearance, he was still an investigator at heart and he became instantly aware of the strange silence in the house as Stan led him through the hallway (had it always been this narrow and he'd just outgrown it?), dumping Ford's bags in the guest room that had formerly been his and Stan's shared bedroom. Judging from the belongings already scattered around the room, they'd be sharing again.

Frankly, Ford was looking forward to sharing a room with his brother again, even if only briefly, and even as the thought made his stomach churn with his nerves. Ford never slept as well alone as he did with Stan, but there was a gaping maw of unspoken words and distance between them.

"Stan," Ford spoke out, not sure what he was going to talk about. The silence of the house, Shermy's child, their strained relationship, there were so many things to consider. In the end, he asked vaguely: "Is everything alright?"

Stan took a deep breath before he reached out for Ford, grabbing his twin's hands. An electric jolt shot through the connection, their opposite charges mingling like they always had. Stan led them to sit down on the bed, where he proceeded to slump down against Ford's body.

'This is bad', Ford realized as he squeezed Stan's hands within his own. Something really bad had happened to have Stan this shaken up.

"Shermy's gone," Stan said softly, his voice still reaching Ford's ears in the empty room and empty house.

Ford frowned. "Gone?" he repeated, confused. "As in, they left or-"

"They _vanished_ , Ford," Stan hissed, voice still low even as he raised it. "Shermy, they were home, when they entered labour, they, they just winked out and there was just Miriam."

Miriam. A niece. Ford had a niece, but no older sibling.

"Stan." Ford pulled his hands out of Stan's grasp and cupped his brother's face, trying to meet his eyes. "Where's the baby? Can I see her?" It was very likely that there was a logical explanation, but Ford needed all the facts before he could even begin to figure it out.

Stan looked like he was about to _cry_. Ford wondered where everyone else was; everything was so quiet and Stan looked worn down and exhausted on an emotional level. And yet, despite looking like he should just be lying down on the bed and getting some rest, Stan nodded and muttered: "Sure."

Deep in the pit of his stomach, Ford felt something give as Stan pulled away. The sensation wasn't unlike when he'd test out magnets, bringing them together and pulling them apart. It wasn't a completely unreasonable thought, that his and Stan's opposite charges could create opposite magnetic poles. Especially if the theories he'd been creating about what they were could be proven true.

Falling into the familiar pull, Ford followed after Stan, hand reaching out to grasp his brother's, but a sudden sharp cry had Stan rushing ahead before Ford could finish the gesture and Ford hurried to follow Stan into the room that had used to belong to Shermy long ago. It had been turned into a study for their father even before Ford left home. Among the office equipment was a cradle, one Stan was now reaching into. Stan straightened himself and gently jostled a small child in his grasp.

"Hush there, now," Stan murmured softly to the little girl. "What's got you all worked up?"

Ford watched as Stan cradled their little niece close, feeling strangely empty. It was difficult to understand the situation. There was one thing he'd need to check, in order to confirm all the thoughts he'd been having about his and his brother's nature. He had a whole journal dedicated to the subject and this might be the final bit of proof he'd need to confirm his theory.

Stan bent over Miriam’s form, rubbing a finger against her small chin. "You're not hungry," the other man was speaking to the infant. "Were you just lonely, sweetie?"

Ford leaned past Stan, also taking a look at their newly born niece. “Huh," he murmured. “She has Shermy’s gem.”

“What?” Stan moved his hand so that he could also see the yellow citrine resting on the left half of Miriam’s chest. “You’re right. It’s even on the same spot.”

“Maybe the gem can’t be replicated, since it’s not built from biological genetics,” Ford commented analytically, reaching out a hand as if to test the gem.

Stan turned his body away a bit, moving the infant out of his brother’s reach in the progress. “Is this really the time, Ford?” he growled in a disapproving tone. “Shermy’s gone and you wanna poke and prod their only legacy?”

Ford released a put out huff at his brother’s behavior. “Of course this is the time. What if that baby _is_ Shermy, reborn?”

“I doubt it,” Stan grumbled, turning back to Ford with the baby. “See? She looks more like Carlos than Shermy.”

While Ford hadn't seen Carlos often, their sibling's lover had never gained their parents' favor, Ford had excellent memory. Indeed, even taking baby fat into account, the infant had Carlos’ round nose and face, instead of Shermy’s narrow and sharp features. All of those features were surrounded by the same curly, dark brown hair that Shermy had also had. There was no doubt that Miriam was Shermy and Carlos’ child instead of a copy of their sibling.

It was all coming together. He and Stan also had gems like Shermy. All three of them had been found in the same dark canyon to the northwest. He and Stan had even been found in the same crevice there, their backs pressed together with their gems mirroring each other.

What were their gems? Ford had noticed his physical body lacked limitations that he'd read human bodies to have. He didn't get tired easily, he didn't need sleep (although his mom catching him staying up and ordering him to bed had put a stop to any further experimentation on that) and it didn't affect him if he forgot to eat.

Stan enjoyed all of those activities, lazying around, sleeping and eating, so Ford wasn't sure if his twin had noticed these aspects of them as well. Ford hadn't dared poke his gem much, but he had noticed that it was flawed, unlike Stan's, which was the most likely reason for his additional fingers.

"Have you ever considered we're actually our gems?" Ford asked.

Stan released a disgruntled sound at the sentence. "Really, Ford?" he asked in a low growl. "You want to talk about one of your theories _now_?"

"It pertains to the matter at hand," Ford insisted. "If our very beings are our gems, and gems can't be replicated, it is possible Shermy's existence had to be overwritten for Miriam to exist."

Stan fell silent at his brother's words, face solemn. Ford knew he'd gotten through to him, that he understood and saw the possibility. The other twin then said: "We can't tell Ma and Pops about this. They're freaked out enough as it is."

"Agreed." Ford nodded. He frowned. "Speaking of Ma and Pops, where did they get to?"

Propping Miriam more securely against his broad chest, Stan released a sigh. "They're out. They're out a lot these days."

Ford's frown deepened, understanding what was being implied. He wondered which of their parents was trying to cope with the grief through hard liquor and which of them served as a chaperone. While Ma had always been more emotional and closer to her kids, she was still emotionally healthy enough to deal with her emotions without any outside influence. However, if Filbrick was now experiencing his first ever grief, he might well just try to drink it away. Their father had never been too healthy on the emotional front.

"Ma and Pops don't allow Carlos in the house," Stan continued, tucking his niece under his chin. "They're kind of disagreeing on the whole thing of who should get Miriam."

"That's sure to end well," Ford muttered and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Are any of them in any condition to take on a baby?"

"Carlos could manage. He's solid," Stan said confidently. His expression slid into something wistful. "If Ma and Pops keep her, though, I might need to stick around."

No. That was not what Ford wanted for Stan, ending up stuck in this house with a child who wasn't his responsibility. "Don't be ridiculous," he said bluntly. "You'd make a terrible parent."

An ugly expression overcame Stan's face as his eyes narrowed. "Watch it," the other man growled in a low voice. "Who do you think's been taking care of the tot so far?"

"I didn't mean to offend," Ford offered.

Stan huffed. "Didn't stop ya from offending, now did it?"

"Stan," Ford groaned. "Let's not fight. I just..." He sighed. "I just think you have so many other skills; child-rearing's not one of them."

"What would you know?" Stan hugged Miriam closer, the baby's fussing completely gone now as she enjoyed getting attention from her uncle. "You sure haven't seen me with kids, you haven't seen me at all during the last decade."

"Stannnnnn..." Ford drew the word out in his frustration, rolling his shoulders. "Don't be like this, I don't want you wasting your life here."

Stan laughed then, a short bitter sound that held no real amusement. "Newsflash, Poindexter, I've been doing nothing _but_ wasting my time these last ten years." He looked down at the infant in his arms and his gaze was tender. "Miriam needs me, she's the only one who does."

" _I need you!_ " Ford snapped then, looming over Stan. "That's what I've been trying to tell you, you idiot!"

Miriam started to whine, the sound at first quiet and frightened but it escalated into a full cry in moments. Stan released a frustrated sound and started rocking the baby in his arms. "Hush, hush, sweetie, everything's okay. Your other uncle's just being a butt."

"A butt?" Ford growled, anger still boiling in the surface. "Oh, that's really mature, when I'm trying to ask for your help."

"I'm not gonna cuss in front of a baby," Stan said, eyes never leaving Miriam's red and screaming face. "Now, unless you're gonna be quiet, you should leave the room so that I can get Miriam to bed."

"This is important, Stanley," Ford insisted, although he did lower his voice. "I want you to come with me, to this place called Gravity Falls. I really think we can find out what we are there."

Stan sighed, drawing it out into a long hiss from between his pursed lips. The look he gave Ford then had a chill going down Ford's spine.

Stan had never looked at him with rejection before.

"Look, Ford," Stan started, like his expression hadn't already told his brother that he was placing an infant over his own twin. "This is really not the time or place to have this discussion."

"What's the point?" Ford huffed and whirled around to leave the room. He heard Stan call his name after him, but Ford ignored him and he stomped back into the guest room, where he proceeded to flop face-down onto the bed.

What was _wrong_ with Stanley? Had he really had none of the difficulties Ford had gone through? Didn't he lie awake at night because something inside him was unsettled without his twin there beside him? Didn't he just _miss_ Ford, in a completely normal manner that had nothing to do with their weird powers and everything to do with them being twins?

Ford snapped his fingers, a nervous tick to let out some of his charge when it built up. Without Stan there to balance him out with his positive charge, Ford had to find other ways of dealing with his surplus electrons. He'd actually thought he might not have to do it anymore once he got in touch with Stan again, but now he'd been sidelined, again, first in favor of Stan Squared, now in favor of Miriam.

This time, however, Ford knew for a fact that his parents were at fault for the rift between him and Stan. If they could just get their act together and let Miriam be raised by her father...

Ford rolled over and sat up in the bed. Maybe he ought to have a word with his parents, in that case. Maybe he could solve all of this and Stanley wouldn't have to put aside his own desires to take care of a child who wasn't his own.

Or then Stan would choose to stay anyway. At least Ford would then know, without a doubt, whether or not his brother still cared about him.


	2. Chapter 2

After Miriam was asleep and safely tucked back into her cot, Stan made his way to the guest room. He was apprehensive; he still didn't know what he was going to say, about the present or the past, He wasn't even sure how he felt.

He'd been happy to see Ford again. It had been nearly a decade, he'd _missed_ him. But he still hadn't really accomplished anything he'd set out to do. Stan couldn't help but fear that Ford would reject him if he ever found out what a screw-up Stan was.

Afraid of getting hurt, Stan had probably been a bit too defensive towards his brother. Stan just hoped Ford hadn't taken it too personally, like he tended to do.

When he arrived in the doorway of the room (Filbrick had just grumbled indecipherably when Stan had asked about the lack of a door), Stan stopped. The room was empty.

At first a sick feeling rose in Stan. Had Ford actually been offended enough to leave? But his bags were still there, lying discarded on the floor.

Stan entered the room with shaky legs. He could run himself ragged, not sleeping for days with no ill effect, but add a bit of stress and he'd lose energy more quickly than when running from the law or any unsavory types. This last week had been very stressful and Stan felt ready to crash.

Lying down on the double bed, Stan attempted to get some sleep. It was slow coming, however. He kept imagining things, thinking he'd heard something from Miriam's room even though the house was as quiet as it could be.

On the other side of the house, the front door opened and closed. Stan listened for his parents' voices, but there was only silence. Ford must have been back, then. The guy had always been able to move silently. Stan could only hear the silent footfalls when they were in the doorway of the room. Ford padded around the room on his socked feet for a bit before the mattress dipped behind Stan's back.

An arm fell around Stan's waist. It was a familiar gesture from his childhood shared with Ford, but now it made him feel small. He'd gone without this because he hadn't been good enough; did he really deserve it now?

"Where were you?" Stan asked, glaring at the wall ahead. He needed speech, he couldn't stand the inside of his head right now.

Ford pulled his arm back, releasing a startled squack. "You're awake," he stuttered out.

"And that's why they call you a genius," Stan grumbled. He turned around to direct his glare at Ford. "Seriously, where were you?"

"I went to look for Ma and Pops," Ford admitted, bringing his arm back around Stan's waist. "I got in a fight."

"Of course you did." Stan wasn't _that_ surprised. He didn't know what it was about, not exactly, but he did know that Ford and Filbrick had a lot of aggression between them.

"Yeah." At least Ford sounded kind of like he was sorry. "I'll probably be leaving first thing tomorrow morning."

The 'I want you to come with me,' hung unspoken between them.

"Did you mean it, when you said you need me?" Stan hated being the way he was. He wanted to be better, by himself, but he still yearned for that unity between him and Ford.

"Of course I meant it," Ford answered readily. "I wouldn't have said it otherwise."

"Right." Because Ford didn't say things without meaning them, unlike Stan who often let his mouth run.

_"Waste of my time."_

Stan moved closer towards Ford. When had his brother become so solid? Ford used to be much more squishy. He was still kind of shrimpy in comparison to Stan, though. "I still don't know _what_ you need me for."

"I can control my powers better when I'm around you," Ford said. "You ground me and balance me out." The other man's hand moved to the back of Stan's right shoulder, over his gem. "I think we were made to be that way, opposite poles."

Stan wasn't sure how he felt about that. Was that really all he was good for, propping up his brother? He did want only the best for Ford, even if he had no clue what the best was most of the time. Maybe he'd always been meant to help Ford be the best he could be.

"I've never been as good at control as you," Ford murmured and Stan was startled out of his trail of thought.

_The air smelled of ozone and charred flesh._

Stan shuddered and Ford noticed. How could he not when they were pressed up against each other like this? Ford pulled back so that he could press his forehead against his twin's. His voice was heavy with concern when he whispered: "Stan? What's wrong?"

"I didn't exactly have a good time by myself," Stan confessed. While this was his twin, his kind-of-older brother, he still couldn't be fully candid, not about this.

Ford chuckled and Stan stiffened. "I can't imagine anything that would give _you_ much trouble," the other man said.

Stan pulled out of Ford's grasp. "I guess you don't have much imagination, then." Stan wished _he_ couldn't imagine it, that he could forget.

"Stan, come back," Ford implored. "I'm sure it wasn't that bad."

Stan rolled onto his back and crossed his arms. He contemplated just getting up, but he was too exhausted to even think about leaving the comfortable bed. Even if his brother was being a condescending jerk.

There was a sigh from Ford, followed by sounds of shifting as the other man moved to lie on his back as well. "I'm sorry I didn't get it."

A huff slipped from Stan and he relaxed, letting his arms fall to his sides. "Just because I _can_ put someone through a wall or give them a nasty shock doesn't mean it's my first reaction, or even something I really want to do."

_There were bodies littering the floor. Some of them were dead, probably even most of them They were dead because he'd killed them._

"You really only hurt people when they hurt you first," Ford said in a considering tone. "You've always been quicker to defend me than yourself." The other man hummed. "I guess I'll have to pick up the slack and protect you from now on." He reached across the mattress, hand clasping Stan's between their bodies. It was a secure grip, strong, and Stan was beginning to suspect that nerdy Ford wasn't so wimpy anymore.

"I'm a grown ass man, Ford," Stan groused, just to make sure his brother knew that. "I've been taking care of myself for this long." He'd managed, even if he hadn't gotten out entirely unscathed.

"You protected me when we were kids, I can protect you now that we've grown up," Ford insisted, hand squeezing Stan's. "Maybe _that's_ why my powers are so hard to control, if I was meant to used them to keep you safe."

Frankly, Stan wasn't too keen on the idea, even if Ford seemed excited over the prospect. Ford had always loved the idea of fate and destiny, of everything happening for a specific purpose that could be discovered and analyzed. To Stan, though, life had always been more of a gamble; a lot of stuff happened by pure chance but you could learn to cheat your way to more favorable outcomes.

If Ford's "destiny" was to take care of everything, wouldn't that just make Stan baggage? Stan had left all those years ago just so that he could stop that from happening. Stan could accept being a complement to his brother, but he would not be coddled by his own twin.

"Come to Gravity Falls with me, Stan," Ford implored and Stan grit his teeth. "It's what you're supposed to do."

"Like hell it is," Stan snarled and sat up. He yanked his hand out of Ford's grip and stood up. "I need some fresh air," he muttered half-heartedly before he marched out of the room. Ford didn't follow. It was the first smart thing he'd done all night.

Stan didn't close the front door when he went outside. He didn't plan to go farther than the curb. Only, the curb was already taken.

"Pops?" Stan questioned as he walked over to his parents. Filbrick was sitting slumped down on the curb, looking like his hangover had caught up with him early, while his wife was crouched beside him, rubbing his back.

"Stanley, dear, why aren't you in bed?" the woman asked with concern. "You need your rest."

"My bedmate keeps trying to lure me off to Oregon," Stan replied and crossed his arms. "He says I balance him out or some rot."

"Oh, Stanley, that's wonderful!" his mother cheered and Stan faltered. "I'm glad he's reaching out to you at least."

Stan frowned at his parents. Ford had mentioned arguing with Pops. "What did Ford do?"

"Probably scared your father into staying sober for the rest of his life," his mother answered. "Scared the rest of the pub while he was at it too." She gave Stan a soulful look. "You're the only one who can take care of him like he needs."

Stan huffed. "He said _he_ wanted to take care of _me_."

"There are many ways to take care of someone," his mother told him. It sounded a lot like her lipservice to her customers, general common sense disguised as something profound.

The implication seemed to be that Ford needed Stan to remain sane. The thought made Stan feel a lot less meaningless, even as it also worried him.

Stan bent down and his mother kissed his cheek. "Take care of each other," she said. "Give your mother less to worry about."

"What about Miriam?" Stan asked. "Who's gonna take care of her?"

"Filbrick and I will be fine." A reprimanding swat landed on Stan's side. "We raised you two and Shermy just fine."

"And Carlos?" Stan tried, even as he knew it to be futile.

"That foreigner is not welcome in my house," Filbrick grumbled, sounding more sober than he had in days, which meant that he really meant what he was saying. "We'll raise Miriam to be a proper Pines."

"Right." Stan wasn't exactly pleased with the resolution, but at least Ford had gotten their father to take his role as a grandparent and guardian seriously.

Stan made his way back into the house and into the room he shared with Ford. He briefly contemplated climbing into the bed and curling up around his brother but he was still a bit ticked off at him. Instead he checked to make sure that Ford was really asleep and proceeded to pack his bags.

Ford had told him he'd be leaving first thing in the morning. Stan should be ready.

 

* * *

 

When Ford woke up in the morning, Stan was gone. The room felt cold, like there had been no one else in there for a while. Most likely Stan had spent the night with his infant niece then, rather than his brother.

Ford made his way through the quiet house, dragging his bags along. A quick peek into the study-turned-into-makeshift-nursery revealed that Miriam had been picked up and taken elsewhere.

Eventually Ford entered the kitchen to find his mother feeding Miriam a bottle of baby formula.

"Where's Stan?" he immediately asked, barely granting a thought at how rude he was being.

"Outside," his mother answered easily. "Will you say goodbye to your niece before you go?" She fixed her grip on the baby for emphasis.

Ford planted a brief kiss on both his mother's and niece's cheeks, but at the same time he was thinking bitterly about how Stan hadn't even wanted to see him long enough to say goodbye. "I'll visit sooner next time," he promised. He still needed to get Stan to change his mind. Giving him some space before his next attempt would be for the better, though.

Ford left the house and stopped for a moment on the sidewalk. He considered the long and lonely trip back to Gravity Falls that waited him and sighed.

The sudden blare of a car horn caused him to jump. He whirled around to see a familiar El Diablo parked further down the street.

Stan leaned out of an open window. "Hey, Mystery Boy!" the man called out jovially. "Which way to Gravity Hills?"

Ford sighed again, but this time it was with fondness. "It's Gravity Falls," he corrected as he made his way to the car. He threw his bags in the trunk and took a seat in the passenger seat. "What made you change your mind?" he asked even before he'd gotten the door closed after him.

"It wasn't anything you said," Stan replied gruffly. "Frankly, I'm still a bit pissed off at you, but things will never get better if I don't give in even a bit."

It wasn't the perfect conclusion, Ford decided as he fastened his seatbelt, but it was a start.


End file.
